You're not cut out for fashion
by Millie Black
Summary: A young Gabriel Agreste aspires to be a fashion designer. He eagerly shows his designs to his father, but is met with an unexpected reaction. This causes Gabriel to go through a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He starts to doubt whether he was really cut out for this.


"You're not cut out for fashion."

Those were the words that echoed in Gabriel's ears as his drawings were thrown to the floor. He winced and turned his head, expecting his father to turn to him next. Instead the older man just sat down at his desk, pulling out his pipe. Gabriel lowered his eyes meeting the papers strewn across the floor. There were about twenty of them; all of them ranged into different styles and ideas. Most importantly they were his. Tears threatened to gather in his eyes but Gabriel furiously blinked them back.

"Pick up your trash. Don't litter in my office." Gabriel bent down immediately, frantically snatching up his life work. His hand reached to pick up his favorite one, a shoulder sleeve galaxy dress, but a boot came down on his fingers. Gabriel winced, biting his tongue so he didn't cry out. Still stepping on his foot, William crouched down low, looking his son in the eye.

They stared at each other, Gabriel's eyes starting to water as his fingers throbbed. Cold grey eyes narrowed before William straightened. "I don't want to see you until dinner. And no more nonsense about going to a fashion school. You hear me?" He lifted his black dress shoe from Gabriel's fingers.

"Yes father." Gabriel whispered slowly. His hand twitched painfully before he grabbed the sketch. He tried to ignore the foot print now plastered against the paper. Gabriel bowed low before exiting the office. He was down the hall and in his room before the door even clicked shut.

Behind the shut door Gabriel was holding the sketches tightly to his chest. His breath came in ragged gasps as he tried to stop the room from spinned. _Calm down, your fine. Your fine…_ He repeated this mantra to himself. Usually it worked, but this time the room didn't focus like it usually did. He slid down to the floor using the second method. Name: Gabriel Agreste. Age: Nineteen. Occupation: Artist/Fashion Designer.

"_You're not cut out for fashion."_

Tears started streaking down his face as he let out a choked sob. His hand was trembling; the throbbing seemed to intensify. He risked a glance. There was a clear red line against his pale left hand. It traced across the back, just above the knuckle of his thumb. With horror Gabriel realized that it was his dominant hand.

He couldn't draw.

If it healed fast he would be able to draw within a week, minimum. If it didn't, then he wouldn't be able to draw for four weeks maximum. He couldn't handle that. He would go crazy before then. Was this a sign? No no, his father had done this. He was still supposed to be a fashion designer, right? It was his destiny.

Wasn't it?

Gabriel stared at his hand for a few more seconds. Already the redness was starting to fade. He would just have to hope and pray that it healed quickly. He stood to go to his desk. There were papers everywhere. Some were in neat piles, others were scattered around the surface messily. Above the desk pinned against the walls were hundreds of sketches. They overlapped each other, like layers on a cake.

"_You're not cut out for fashion."_

The sound of tearing paper filled the room as Gabriel swiped angrily at the wall. Each paper gave away easily, and soon enough there was just a blank spot on the wall. A white plain wall. There were papers scattered on the floor now; the tops were ripped off and some of them were crumpled into little balls. His chest heaved up and down, still fueled by the adrenaline and anger that had come in too late. His empty blue eyes stared down at the circle of tattered papers around him before he sank to his feet.

The tears that never seemed to stop flowing dripped off of his cheeks onto the floor. Slowly he started smoothing out the papers that were around him. He remembered exactly when and where he had drawn them. He let out a shaky breath, the last of his anger leaving him.

He stared hard a paper, something in his mind forming. Formal wear. Ballroom style. Female. Blue and green. Quickly Gabriel grabbed a notepad, ignoring the pain as he jotted down the instructions. Shoulder sleeve. Peacock feathers weaving around in an upward circular motion. Multiple skirt layers. Still jotting down ideas, Gabriel blindly reached for his sketchbook. He knocked over a few stacks of papers before he found it.

He turned the pages, frequently glancing over to see where he was at. He turned to the last page, scowling when he saw it was filled. Abandoning his notepad he went in search of another sketch book. He sifted through papers, occasionally pausing to write down his overflowing thoughts.

Gabriel loved moments like this. Moments where he had a sudden spark of inspiration. It could be exhausting having so many idea's just appear at once, but Gabriel loved the rushing feeling of it all piecing together.

Finally he found a sketchbook that was only half full. _I really should organize all of this…_ the thought was drowned out by another piece fitting into the puzzle. He jotted down the idea, his hand twitching in pain. He ignored it, moving on to the sketch pad. He drew a faceless form, then quickly started to lightly draw the outline of the dress.

He was halfway done when a bolt of pain shot through his hand. Gabriel dropped the pencil, clutching his hand. Reason came back to him, drowning out the picture in his mind. If he continued like this his hand would never heal. If he did, it could have lasting effects. Gabriel sighed. He could go a week without drawing.

"_You're not cut out for fashion."_

Gabriel stared down at the drawing below him. He could already picture the completed form. Then his mind went further. He closed his eyes as he imagined the dress made with actual fabric. As fate would have it, Gabriel suddenly pictured someone actually wearing his creation. It sent a surge of excitement through him.

"_You're not cut out for-" _The words faded as Gabriel mentally pushed it away.

"_Yes I am."_

* * *

**_I guess this is a preview of sorts? I really want to get started on a story focusing on a young Gabriel Agreste as he chases his dream. (of course he meets Emilie along the way) SO NOBODY TAKE MY IDEA! I need to finish some other stories first, but I hope that you guys really enjoy this one shot._**


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